


lark's head

by seiseijoh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ADHD, Autism, Autistic Ushijima Wakatoshi, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Marriage, Mental Health Issues, Neurodiversity, Non-Sexual Bondage, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Stimming, Trust, rating is for the bondage but it's completely nonsexual, soft as shit, takes place over a number of years, tendou has adhd, they're in LOVE your honour, timeskip compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 05:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seiseijoh/pseuds/seiseijoh
Summary: The way Wakatoshi had found out that Satori liked being tied up had been accidental.They laugh about it now – or rather, Satori laughs about it, jokes about what it must have looked like to a teenage Wakatoshi, walking in on his friend with his legs knotted up in rope, and Wakatoshi tilts his head and admits that he’d been a little confused.They laugh about it now but at the time, when Wakatoshi had walked into Satori’s dorm without knocking, because Satori had told him that the door was always open and he never needed to knock, when his friend’s head had whipped around at near spine-breaking speed, fingers tightening over the lengths of rope half-wrapped around his legs – at the time, Wakatoshi had been concerned, and Satori terrified.Ushijima Wakatoshi would give Tendou Satori the world.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74





	lark's head

**Author's Note:**

> hi all, if ur following the college!au i promise i'm working on the next instalment but i've also been working on this and finished it first so here u go
> 
> this is actually drawn from personal experience! i have adhd and stim in a number of ways, one of which i've recently started exploring being the pressure from rope bondage. learning has been weird since it's obviously a very sexual thing and all the tutorials and guides revolve around that, and i just want to do it completely nonsexually, but what i've tried so far has been cool
> 
> i've wanted to write ushiten for a while now, they're characters that are very close to my heart and it was really different and fun writing them compared to what/who i usually write. i hope y'all like it!
> 
> unbeta'd, please be kind!

It always starts like this.

Satori comes to him, quiet in a way he never usually is.

_ Would you mind? _

This time Wakatoshi is barely in the door, one arm full with groceries. Satori is waiting for him, hands behind his back as he stands pigeon-toed in the hallway, asks before Wakatoshi has the chance to even take his keys from the lock. He struggles to look at him, bites down on both lips. He doesn’t have the chance to apologise before Wakatoshi answers.

_ Of course not. _

He would give Satori the world if he asked for it.

There isn’t anything among the groceries that needs to be dealt with immediately, nothing refrigerated or frozen, so Wakatoshi closes the door and leaves the bag there, slides off his shoes before ushering Satori into the bedroom. Satori starts to speak, probably to say that he can wait a few minutes, the food should get put away first, but Wakatoshi allows for none of that.

_ I’ll take care of you first. _

Satori’s quiet after that, doesn’t argue when Wakatoshi directs him to strip down to his underwear and get on the bed instead of helping him find what he needs in the bottom drawer of the dresser. He nods mutely when Wakatoshi holds up what he’s fished out for approval. He stares at his trembling hands as Wakatoshi kneels on the bed beside him, as they’re taken up in his partner’s grip and kisses are laid on each knuckle. He shivers at the touch, closes his eyes for a moment before opening them with a bracing sigh.

_ You always pick the black. _

Wakatoshi looks down at the rope in his hand, long lengths of it wrapped and tied neatly in a bundle.

_ The black suits you. Would you like me to pick something else? _

Satori coughs out a laugh.

_ No. No, it’s okay. _

A pause.

_ Thank you. _

Wakatoshi unfurls the rope, selects the first piece.

_ Of course. _

* * *

The way Wakatoshi had found out that Satori liked being tied up had been accidental.

They laugh about it now – or rather, Satori laughs about it, jokes about what it must have looked like to a teenage Wakatoshi, walking in on his friend with his legs knotted up in rope, and Wakatoshi tilts his head and admits that he’d been a little confused.

They laugh about it now but at the time, when Wakatoshi had walked into Satori’s dorm without knocking, because Satori had told him that the door was always open and he never needed to knock, when his friend’s head had whipped around at near spine-breaking speed, fingers tightening over the lengths of rope half-wrapped around his legs – at the time, Wakatoshi had been concerned, and Satori terrified.

* * *

_ It’s… not what it looks like? _ Satori laughs, clipped, strained.

Wakatoshi takes in the scene carefully. Satori, dressed in a tank top and boxer shorts, his hair damp and skin glowing warm from a recent shower, is sitting on the bed with his knees bent. His right leg is entirely encircled in waxy white rope, knotted at even points up to the hem of his underwear, while the left has only been completed halfway up the calf, the remaining rope clutched in Satori’s shaking hands.

_ It looks like you’re tying rope around your legs _ .

Satori’s eyes widen and he hisses,  _ oh my god, shut up, shut the door, shut the door! _

Wakatoshi shuts the door. He suspects Satori might want him on the other side of it, but he stays.

_ Why are you tying rope around your legs? _

Satori drops the rope, crushes his face into his palms. He’s quiet for a long, long few minutes, and Wakatoshi waits patiently.

Finally, through his hands, small in a way that Satori never, ever is, in a way that sets Wakatoshi’s heart on edge –  _ please don’t tell anyone. _

_ Okay. I won’t tell anyone. _

A pause.

_ You’re upset. _

Satori laughs, shaky.

_ Yeah, a bit. _

Wakatoshi steps closer, sits carefully at the foot of the bed. Satori looks at him, eyes wet, wide, afraid.

_ People will think I’m weird _ . A whisper.  _ Weirder. They don’t need more ammunition _ .

With hands folded in his lap, Wakatoshi says,  _ it’s alright to be weird. _

Satori’s laugh surprises them both, he thinks, coming out choked and harsh.

_ You still haven’t answered my question. _ Wakatoshi cocks his head.  _ Or do you not want to? _

As he waits for Satori to reply, a sudden thought occurs to him – Satori looks so beautiful with his hair down, thick and vibrant waves against his pale skin as he turns his head away. Almost immediately he beats the thought back, forces it into the corner of his brain where he stores all such similar thoughts, where he doesn’t have to think about their implications. He’s not ready to deal with that just yet.

_ It makes me feel good _ .

There’s no hesitation in Wakatoshi’s reply.

_ Okay. _

Satori looks back at him, frowns.

_ Really? _

_ Is there something else you want me to say? _

Wakatoshi thinks over their conversation thus far with a frown of his own – he’s trying, he’s really trying to get better at communication and recognising the silent signs that others show. If he’s read this right, Satori wants him to be okay with what he’s doing. And he is. But now Satori’s asking  _ really? _ And suddenly he’s not so sure anymore.

Satori smiles, and this time his laugh is softer, genuine.  _ No. As long as you’re telling the truth. That… that it’s really okay. _

_ It doesn’t hurt you, does it? _

Satori shakes his head earnestly.  _ No. I mean, sometimes there’s rope burn, but that’s by accident, if I’m not being careful. _

_ Then it’s okay. As long as you’re careful. _ Wakatoshi doesn’t understand what the big deal is.  _ It makes you feel good. _

With chin propped in his palm, elbow on his bound thigh, Satori sighs.

_ You really make it sound so simple. _

_ Isn’t it? _

Satori hums, and Wakatoshi has the fleeting thought that he likes the sound, that it soothes some weird little itch in the back of his brain.

_ Maybe _ .

Wakatoshi sits quietly as the other finishes knotting the rope around his leg, long fingers working deftly to tug and tighten and readjust until he’s happy. When he is, he lays back on the bed, knees still bent and arms under his head, and sighs again.

_ I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now, anyway. _

_ Do you want me to leave? _

_ … No. _

* * *

He explains later – weeks later, when he drags Wakatoshi out into the wide-open fields around Shiratorizawa where no one else can hear them. They lay in the grass, side by side, an inch away from touching each other, and Satori explains what shibari is. He explains how it’s technically a sex thing but that sexual gratification isn’t what he gets out of it. He explains his ADHD diagnosis from elementary school, how it had isolated him further from the other kids but also explained so much. He starts to explain stimming, until part way through he stops without warning.

_ You already know about this stuff, don’t you? Being autistic and all. _

Wakatoshi replies simply,  _ yes. _

_ You can always tell me to stop talking. I know I talk a lot. _

_ I don’t mind listening to you talk. _

Satori’s quiet for a moment, and when Wakatoshi glances over, the other’s face is nearly as red as his hair. He stammers,  _ well, um, what was I saying? Stimming. Right. I like pressure stimming, among others _ . And Wakatoshi watches as Satori explains that he has a lot of stims, and that pressure is one that makes him feel safe and relaxed. He’s tried a whole bunch of ways to pressure stim, from wrapping himself in blankets to wearing tight layers under his clothes. And then he’d come across shibari, had been so intrigued that he’d secretly bought some rope, practiced the knots on his legs and around his chest, and it had felt  _ good _ .

_ So… it’s really okay? _

_ Of course. _

* * *

It’s not until over a year later, towards the end of their third year, that everything starts to fall into place.

Over that year, Wakatoshi has slowly but surely fallen in love with Tendou Satori. There’s a part of him that has always wanted to tell him, but a much larger part of him, ruled by fear, keeps him silent. Satori is one of the few people in his life who just… understands him. And not only understands him, but doesn’t ask him to change. He accepts him for who he is, just as Wakatoshi accepts Satori in a way that few other people do, and the fear of losing that, losing him, is strong.

And then one evening, a few weeks from graduation, he’s texting Satori and asking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, and Satori starts ending his messages with periods and Satori  _ never _ uses periods, and so Wakatoshi asks,  **are you alright?**

**Of course, why wouldn’t I be?** comes the reply.

**Your texting style has changed. It usually means you’re upset.**

The next message takes some time.

**Observant as ever, Ushiwaka.**

**Would you like to come to my room?** Wakatoshi offers.  **I can read another chapter if you’d like.**

He’d started reading a novel some weeks ago, a contemporary piece one of his teachers had recommended, and Satori had joked that Wakatoshi should read it to him in his wonderfully deep, even voice. So he had, and Satori had liked it, and since Wakatoshi knows he isn’t the most engaging of conversationalists, maybe Satori will appreciate his company in another way.

The response comes in two parts.

**I would love to but…**

**I’m a little tied up at the moment.**

Wakatoshi pauses, takes a moment to understand the situation Satori is alluding to. And then he texts back,  **would you like me to come to your room?**

For a long, long few minutes, Wakatoshi thinks Satori might not reply. He’s on the verge of sending another message, asking if he’s said the wrong thing, when the answer finally comes through.

**Yes.**

**Bring the book.**

Wakatoshi confirms he’ll be right over and then he is, book in hand, pushing open the door that’s always unlocked and closing it immediately behind him, not even looking at the bed where he knows Satori will be.

When he does look, he has to take a moment to remember how to breathe.

Satori has always been curiously deceptive. He appears delicate, fragile, and yet his frame hides something truly powerful; long, thin limbs with terrifying strength; wrists and hands that appear weak yet help stop volleyballs moving at high speed; willowy in a loose uniform but a demon on the court on which he wears it; bony and sharp, breakable and boundless. And in that moment on the bed, he’s all that and more.

He’s put a lot of effort into his ropework tonight. He’s bound his legs together, and with better rope this time – it’s a deep purple that looks beautiful against his skin. It’s only wrapped around his calves, pretty knots at his ankles and knees, but he’s also started a harness around his bare chest. Satori looks up, his hair soft and loose around his face, and Wakatoshi is struck by the bizarre urge to run his hands through it.

_ Thank you _ , Satori whispers.

_ For what? _

_ For coming. _

Wakatoshi sits at the foot of the bed, sets the book in his lap and his hands neatly over it.

_ Just let me finish _ , Satori says.  _ I won’t be long. _

_ Would you like me to help? _

He doesn’t realise, won’t realise until many years later, the enormity of what he’s offered. The implication. When they’ve been dating four years and he’s looking at a jetlagged Satori across the kitchen table, falling asleep in his food, he realises it then. That even though the shibari isn’t sexual, it’s still something intimate and up until he’d asked, something Satori had done alone.

In the moment, he realises he’s said  _ something _ important, because Satori stares at him, mouth slightly open, for so long that he’s a little afraid he’s made things irrevocably worse somehow.

_ I apologise _ , he starts, and it triggers Satori into shaking his head and hurriedly interrupting,  _ no, don’t apologise, it’s fine. It’s fine. You… you don’t have to help. I know how to do the knots. _

_ I know you do _ , Wakatoshi says.  _ So do I. I’ve been researching. I can help, if you’d like. _

He doesn’t realise the magnitude of that casual statement either, doesn’t immediately understand why Satori starts to tremble, his voice shaking as he asks,  _ you’ve been researching? _

_ Yes. I know this is something you do to relax, so I thought I would make sure I knew what to do so I could help you if you ever needed it. _

_ Really? _

_ I thought it was important. _

He’s at a loss right now, but seven years in the future, when they’re a tangle of limbs and shared breath the morning after Wakatoshi proposes, when they’ve got scant hours to spare before his plane leaves for the other side of the world, Satori tells him then. He tells him that that sentence –  _ I thought it was important _ – has been etched permanently into his brain like a tattoo. That when he’s feeling fragile and uncomfortable in his own skin and like he’s a disappointment, he thinks of the moment when he’d realised that the boy he’d slowly fallen in love with cared about him, so much so that he’d gone out of his way to learn about something that had no bearing on his own life. Just for him. Because  _ I thought it was important _ . Because Satori’s emotional wellbeing, Satori’s mental health, was  _ important. _ Because  _ Satori _ was  _ important. _

But right now, Wakatoshi stares as Satori nods wordlessly, holds out the ends of rope wrapped haphazard around his chest. Wakatoshi moves the book from his lap to the nearby bookshelf and takes the rope, unloops it from Satori’s body and stands at the side of the bed to begin.

Perpendicular to Satori, he asks,  _ do you want your hands free? I can do that, or I can restrain them. _

Satori shudders.

_ You can tie them _ .

Wakatoshi works carefully, gently, spends what is probably too long rewrapping the rope around Satori’s torso as precisely as he possible, each knot neat and perfect because Wakatoshi has been practicing ever since they’d laid side by side in that field, under a cloudy sky an inch apart from touching. It’s easy, although nerve wracking, because Satori’s skin under his hands is warm and flushed, and his chest heaves with shaky breathes, and some deep recess of Wakatoshi’s brain demands the entire time that he forgo the harness and instead simply press his mouth to Satori’s parted lips.

But he doesn’t. He moves Satori’s hands to his chest, crosses his wrists over each other and ties the last of the rope slowly. He doesn’t have enough rope to be fancy so it’s a simple tie, which leaves him free to watch Satori’s face as he works, try to pinpoint how he’s feeling. Satori can’t look at him, eyes half-closed and hazy, and Wakatoshi’s never been good at recognising emotion on others’ faces but he doesn’t see anything that alarms him, so he finishes off the restraint and sits back down at the foot of the bed.

Satori inhales deeply before finally looking at him.

_ Are you comfortable? _ Wakatoshi asks.

He doesn’t get an answer for a minute, instead just a stare and a half-smile. Satori’s eyes are still misty but searching – for what, Wakatoshi doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he finds it either, but eventually Satori nods and whispers, raspy,  _ yeah _ .

_ Good. Would you like me to read to you? _

_ Yeah. _ Satori bites his lip, swallows hard.  _ W-Wakatoshi? _

_ Yes? _

_ Can you… would it be okay if… if you sat over here? So I can lean on you? _

Wakatoshi doesn’t answer immediately, and Satori panics,  _ it’s fine, sorry, forget I said anything, just read to me, okay? It’s fine, don’t even think about it. _

Uncharacteristically anxious, Wakatoshi stumbles over his words.

_ I… I would be happy to… if it would make you more comfortable. _

The  _ … please _ is quiet, but he hears it, and so he stands, collects the book and sits back down at the head of the bed behind Satori. Carefully, he shifts until he’s comfortable with legs on either side of Satori before he pulls him back against his chest. Satori goes with the movement willingly, collapses against his chest with a sigh of relief so plain that Wakatoshi doesn’t have an ounce of difficulty in interpreting it.

He fishes out the book, wraps his arms around Satori’s body so he can see over his shoulder, and spends the next hour reading through a few more chapters. As the minutes pass, Satori becomes more and more lax in his arms, head lolling against his chest like he doesn’t have the strength to keep it up. A few times, Wakatoshi suspects that he’s fallen asleep, but small, deliberate movements tell him he’s wrong – a tensing of his leg muscles, a deep breath, a roll of the shoulders.

It all happens quickly from there; perhaps too quickly. Wakatoshi finishes a chapter, glances at Satori to gauge whether he wants to continue, and Satori tips his head back to look up at him. His gaze is a little glassy but in a way that tells Wakatoshi that he’s still present, just relaxed.

_ This is nice _ , he says.

_ I’m glad you’re enjoying the experience _ .

Satori smiles, so soft and open, so genuinely carefree and happy that the thought doesn’t even occur to Wakatoshi that maybe he shouldn’t do it – he makes a mental note of their place in the book, puts it down on the bed, cups Satori’s jaw and kisses him.

Wakatoshi, in all the years that follow this moment, never forgets the way Satori gasps against his lips, inhales that small bit of air from Wakatoshi’s mouth before it seals over his.

The kiss is short, barely a few seconds, and Wakatoshi pulls back with fear lancing sharp through his chest.

_ I’m sorry _ , he mumbles.  _ I should have asked permission, I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry _ .

He thinks, but doesn’t say,  **_please don’t be mad at me_ ** **.** He knows that what he’s done is unforgivable. Not only has he lost Satori as a friend, but he’s also just taken advantage of him – and after he himself had put him in such a vulnerable position, unable to fight back or protect himself.  **_Please don’t be mad at me. I don’t think I could survive it_ ** **.**

Satori blinks, fingers curling against his chest reflexively.

_ Wakatoshi… _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ Can… Can you untie my hands? _

_ Of course _ . Wakatoshi rushes, his words and his hands, frees Satori’s with a few well-placed tugs. As soon as the rope is gone, Satori twists in Wakatoshi’s lap, wraps his arms around his neck and pulls himself up until he’s a mere inch from his face – Wakatoshi closes his eyes. He can’t face him, not after what he’s done. Satori calls his name, a sing-song of  _ Wakatoshi. Toshi. Toshi, Toshi, Toshi _ , until he opens his eyes, stares directly into Satori’s suddenly bright, searing gaze.

_ Did you mean it? _

_ The apology? Of course, Tendou. I’m sorry. _

_ No _ . Satori presses his forehead to Wakatoshi’s.  _ The kiss. Did you mean it? _

_ I don’t… _ Wakatoshi struggles.  _ I don’t understand what you mean. _

Satori rephrases, nose against his,  _ tell me why you kissed me. _

That. That is simultaneously so easy and so difficult to answer. He knows exactly why, but to say it… 

_ Because I like you. _

Satori laughs so gently, so prettily, that it makes Wakatoshi’s chest constrict, as if the ropes are around his chest and not Satori’s and someone’s pulling them far too tight.

_ Of course you do _ , Satori says, in a voice that sounds like he’s speaking to himself, before he says a little louder,  _ ask me. _

_ Ask you what? _

_ You said you should have asked permission. So, ask. _

Wakatoshi processes the request slowly, brain misfiring more than once before he finally understands.

_ Tendou… Satori… _

Satori shivers, breath hot against Wakatoshi’s lips.

_ Could I have your permission to kiss you? _

_ Yes _ , Satori exhales a little too quickly before diving in himself.

* * *

Wakatoshi talks about their first kiss at their wedding, omitting the fact that Satori had been beautifully bound in deep purple rope, because he'd promised Satori that he’d never tell anyone and he intends to honour that promise to the grave. Everyone thinks it's teen-romance cute, sweet and fumbling like most first kisses are. Satori tells him later, wine-drunk and struggling to get him out of his tux, that of course he could have survived without him, would have been stronger without him, but that he is so incredibly, desperately grateful that instead of watching from the sidelines, he gets to be a part of Ushijima Wakatoshi's life.

_ An important part, Satori _ , he reminds him, whispers into buzzed-short hair, and Satori cries for a minute, before he pulls himself together so he can get them into their hotel room.

* * *

_ Toshi? _

Wakatoshi blinks, comes back to himself.

Somehow, through his thoughts, he's managed to get the majority of the work done. For a moment, he feels an unpleasantness behind his ribs, that he's blanked out when Satori needs him. But by the half-smile on his partner’s face, the glassiness of his gaze, he’s doing just fine.

Mindlessly, he's gone for his favourite ties – and Satori's too. His legs are bound calf to thigh with intricate, pretty knots along the seam of where they meet, all the way down to his ankles. The chest piece that’s keeping his forearms together behind his back is nearly complete, just needing a handful of knots to tie everything off.

_ Sorry _ , he says, shakes his head and returns to his work.

_ What were you thinking about? _

_ Us _ .

Their eyes meet, and Satori’s smile widens a little more.

_ Yeah? You zoned out for a while there. _ He laughs, soft.  _ Maybe you need this as much as I do. _

Wakatoshi’s lip quirks. Over the years, they’ve honed a routine for times like this, when Satori’s so anxious that he’s crawling out of his skin, that he needs to be physically contained. Wakatoshi, ever the enthusiast for routine, appreciates the simplicity it brings in dealing with his partner’s turbulent emotions. But it’s not only a time for Satori to relax and destress. There’s space there for Wakatoshi to rest, to recoup alongside him. And over the years, perhaps he’s gotten so used to the calmness the routine creates that, as Satori says, he needs it too.

He finishes the last knot and sits back on his knees, looks at him. Black doesn’t just suit him – he looks  _ gorgeous _ in it, devastatingly so. Of all the colours that have ever graced his skin, black is the one they always gravitate back to, a classic contrast to his pale skin and fiery hair.

The afternoon light catches in his hair, flashes of flame as Satori looks away, looks back to him. In a moment of allowed weakness, Wakatoshi leans forward and runs both hands over the shaved undercut, through the soft, short strands at the top. They’re both closing in on forty yet the style makes him look ten years younger, and Satori loves it, even if he does contemplate shaving it all off in moments of stress. Wakatoshi loves it too, for the confidence it gives Satori, the way he smiles when he’s happy with how he looks.

Gently, he pulls Satori closer, plants a kiss – a kiss he’s chased for when he starts to lean back, a kiss he extends without hesitation because Wakatoshi would give Satori the world if he asked for it, and all he’s asking for is this.

_ I love you, Satori _ , he whispers against his lips.

He can feel the curve of Satori's smile, the soft huff of another laugh.

_ I love you too, Toshi. More than anything. _

Wakatoshi leans away again, asks,  _ are you comfortable? _

Satori takes a deep breath, the heart that Wakatoshi’s worked into the chest piece rising with it.

_ Very. _

He leaves Satori on the bed for a moment, gets to his feet to undress. As his shirt and pants come off, Satori whistles, and Wakatoshi shakes his head with a smile.

_ What, I can’t appreciate my husband’s perfect body?  _ Satori grins as Wakatoshi slides back onto the bed behind him and props himself up against the headboard.  _ Anyone would think you don’t work out for the sole reason of giving me something pretty to look at every day. _

Wakatoshi pulls him back against his chest, settles him with feet flat on the bed as he says,  _ I don’t. I work out because my job requires it and because I like to stay fit. _

Satori laughs, tips his head back to look up at him, and just as he starts to speak, starts to say the inevitable  _ I’m joking, Toshi-kun _ , Wakatoshi cuts him off with a kiss to his temple and a murmured,  _ however, thank you for recognising my efforts. _

He reaches over to the bedside table as Satori laughs again, and grabs the book they’re partway through. It’s some fantasy epic that Satori had been excited about for months before its release, and it’s not exactly Wakatoshi’s favourite genre but it’s entertaining enough and besides, this isn’t about him. This is about calming Satori, about giving him a safe and confined space to settle and relax. He’s already started coming back to himself, judging by the jokes and smiles, but he’s still tense, tight against the ropes where he should be lax. A few chapters will give him the time he needs to soften and let the anxiety and stress melt away.

_ Ready? _

Satori hums, snuggles into his chest.

Wakatoshi opens the book, and begins.


End file.
